I had hoped death would be a blissful oblivion, but had all along suspected it to be a nightmare of consciousness presiding impotently over the living world, forever observing its suffering, forever escaping its nothing, a perpetual sleep paralysis that would render me but half awake yet fully down-pressed, submerged, and gasping for a breath, for a life I remain only too willing to relinquish.Those ideas were so immaterial that they delivered only the barest thread that he could locate anywh...